The Most Beautiful Lady
by Nonnie Augustine
I saw my first ballerina when I was four.
And that did it for me. That is what I would do
and like her is what I would be. She twirled
on her toes on the blurry TV, and she wore
the fanciest dress I had ever seen. The man
lifted her high over his head and swung her
in a circle. He dipped her low—I knew
he wanted to kiss her. And I thought he loved
her more than Daddy loved Mommy,
or Uncle Bob loved Aunt Peg,
or anyone loved me.